


Remedial Potions

by xylodemon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cross-Generation Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Teacher-Student Relationship, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-18
Updated: 2005-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry goes for an Occulmency lesson and gets more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remedial Potions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Half-Baked Patchwork Fic](http://www.livejournal.com/users/nimori/169103.html) challenge on LiveJournal.

Harry knew he shouldn't take his Invisibility Cloak to his Occlumency lesson, but he was going to. Tonight's lessons was the second he'd had since school began, and he already knew what was waiting for him downstairs.

Snape had made a point to tell everyone that The Boy Who Lived needed Remedial Potions, _yet again_ , and the Slytherins seemed to think this was the best thing they had heard all term. Last week, they'd conveniently been hanging around in the halls just as Harry was due to arrive. Tonight would be no different, and he was in no mood to listen to Zabini and Nott tell him what an idiot he was.

He was in no mood for an Occlumency lesson at all, but he had to. He knew he had to. If he'd practised harder before, if he'd paid attention and not pissed Snape off, Voldemort would never have gotten inside his head and Sirius probably wouldn't be dead.

Harry left Gryffindor Tower with plenty of time, about a half hour before he was supposed to be there. He didn't really want to be early, but if he was late, Snape would to yell at him for twenty minutes, and he didn't really want that, either.

Crabbe and Goyle were waiting for him when he got downstairs, flanking the entrance of the dungeons. Goyle had a stupid look on his face and Crabbe was stuffing a biscuit in his mouth. Harry smiled and flipped them a two-fingered salute under his cloak, happy he could pass without their stupid attempts at insults.

He almost didn't see Parkinson; she was hiding in the shadows of a statue of Grinaldi the Gratuitous. He tried not to snicker too loudly, but it was hard. She'd let her hair grow long over the summer, but it didn't make her look any less like a pug. Now she just looked like a pug that needed a trim.

The door to the Potions classroom was slightly ajar when Harry arrived. Harry thought this was a bit odd, because Snape never left the door unlocked, and he doubted Snape would be there quite this early. But Harry heard Snape's voice on the other side of the door, so he pulled it open and slipped inside.

He realised two things at once; he was still wearing his cloak, which he should have taken off on the hall, and Snape was not alone.

Malfoy was sitting on Snape's desk with an incredibly bored look on his face, and Harry had to fight the urge to snicker again. Malfoy, like Parkinson, had also grown his hair long. It nearly brushed his shoulders, and Harry secretly thought he looked even stupider than Parkinson.

"You should go, Mister Malfoy," said Snape. "Potter will be here soon."

"Why?" asked Malfoy. He picked up a paperweight shaped like a coiled snake and turned it over in his hands.

"I told you not ten minutes ago," replied Snape. He snatched the paperweight away with a sigh. "Potter has Remedial Potions."

Malfoy snorted. "That's right. I completely forgot. It's funny, really. He's meant to be a hero, but he can't peel a shrivelfig by himself."

Under the cloak, Harry seethed. He was tempted to pull it off and remind Malfoy he didn't do so well in Transfigurations, but if he did they'd see the cloak, and Snape would probably confiscate it.

"Yes, well," said Snape. "Dumbledore is most anxious for him to pass."

"When's he due?"

"Fifteen minutes, assuming he manages to be on time," said Snape. He sighed again, then grasped Malfoy by the waist and lifted him onto his feet. "Still, you should go."

"I don't want to," replied Malfoy. Harry thought he sounded petulant.

"You must," said Snape. He sighed again, and gave Malfoy a considering look. "I shouldn't have let you come to begin with. You're here too often. People are going to talk."

"I don't much care if they do," said Malfoy.

"It's very easy for you to say that, Mister Malfoy," said Snape. "You've nothing to lose. I, however, would be out of a job, and I'd rather not be."

Malfoy took a step closer to Snape, and to Harry's horror, stuck a hand inside Snape's robes.

"Mister Malfoy."

"Professor."

Malfoy did something with the hand inside Snape's robes, something Harry really didn't want to think about, and Snape hissed.

"We can't," said Snape, a bit weakly. "Potter--"

"You said yourself he's always late," replied Malfoy. Snape shook his head, and Malfoy made a vexed noise. "Here, I'll lock the door then."

With his other hand, he produced his wand. He gave a lazy flick of his wrist, and Harry heard the scrape and click of the lock sliding into place.

Harry's eyes darted to the door, and a chill settled through him. He was stuck. Trapped. He couldn't get out, he couldn't tell them he was there without losing the cloak, and Snape and Malfoy were going to... well, he didn't exactly know what they were going to do, but whatever it was, he didn't want to see it.

Snape hesitated, and Malfoy looked up at him, his eyes wide in a way he probably thought was charming. He pressed closer to Snape, and after a long, silent moment, Snape leaned down and kissed him.

It took Harry a moment to wrap his head around what he was seeing, because Snape was a teacher, because Malfoy was a ferret-faced git, but once he did, he felt sick to his stomach. It was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen, including Mandrake roots and Bubotuber pus.

He needed to get out of there. Now.

Harry pulled his wand from his pocket, leaned close to the door, and pointed his wand at the lock through his cloak.

" _Alohomora_ ," he whispered, as low as he could.

The lock stubbornly did nothing. Snape moaned, and in spite of himself, Harry whirled around.

They were still kissing, quite messily. Harry could see Snape's tongue sliding into Malfoy's mouth, and for some reason, it made him think of Flobberworms. Snape's robes had disappeared; he was now in a high-collared long-sleeve with a row of tiny buttons down the front, and trousers, trousers Malfoy was unfastening and shoving down.

Harry could see Snape's arse, pale compared to the dark material of his shirt, and Harry just knew he was going to have nightmares for the rest of his life. Especially because Malfoy was touching it, smoothing his hands over it, his fingers splayed along the curve.

Malfoy pulled away from Snape with a disturbingly playful nip to Snape's greasy lower lip and dropped to his knees. Snape moaned low, his eyes sliding closed, and tangled his fingers in Malfoy's stupid hair.

Harry could only stare. He wanted to turn around, but he couldn't quite make his feet work, couldn't quite tear his eyes away. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew what he could do with this kind of information -- he could get rid of Snape for good, he could embarrass Malfoy within an inch of his life -- but he was too busy being horrified to think about it.

That, and he was hard, which was also a horrifying thought. He shouldn't have been, because Snape was a greasy git and Malfoy was an annoying, pointy little arse, but he was. He was ridiculously hard; his cock was straining painfully against his trousers, and all he wanted to do was stuff his hand inside and wank until his arm fell off.

Snape moaned again, louder, and rocked his hips, thrusting into Malfoy's mouth, his hands tightening in Malfoy's hair. This seemed to encourage Malfoy, making him suck Snape harder, and Harry could see his cheeks hollowing and his tongue sneaking out to swirl over the head.

Harry told himself _no_ over and over again. No, he wasn't going to watch this. No, he wasn't going to enjoy this. No, he wasn't going to touch himself. But Malfoy made a funny, whimpering noise around Snape's cock and reached down to pull out his own, and Harry flushed uncomfortably warm from head to toe.

He caught himself rubbing at the front of his trousers and snatched his hand away, cursing under his breath, but it only came back, cupping and squeezing his cock through the cloth. His whole body throbbed every time Malfoy whimpered and his blood raced every time Snape shoved his cock down Malfoy's throat, so he finally gave in, opening his flies to stroke himself in time with Snape sliding in and out of Malfoy's mouth.

Snape stiffened and growled, thrusting hard into Malfoy's mouth, and Harry froze for a split-second, his hand slipping on his cock as he realised what had just happened. It was still disgusting, never mind what his cock thought, and he wasn't sure what was more mortifying, that he'd just watched Snape come, or that part of him wanted to call Malfoy over and tell him to finish him off.

Malfoy was suddenly on his feet, hauled up by his hair, and Snape's hand dipped down, potion-yellowed fingers wrapping around Malfoy's cock. Harry shivered, heat coiling tightly inside him, and he fisted himself faster, matching Snape's rhythm on Malfoy's cock.

Harry came a heartbeat after Malfoy, spilling over his fingers just as Malfoy spurted on Snape's trousers. They were kissing again, which Harry didn't want to think about because of where Malfoy's mouth had just been, and once he could breathe he turned his attention to tucking himself away so he didn't have to watch.

"I told you Potter would be late," said Malfoy smugly.

"Nevertheless, Mister Malfoy, you must go," replied Snape. "If he sees you, he'll ask why you are here."

"Tell him it's not his business."

"Yes, but you look a riot," said Snape. "Quickly now."

Malfoy straightened himself quickly and started for the door. Harry stepped close behind him, careful not to breathe, and slipped out just as the door clicked shut. He waited outside, making himself count to one hundred, then tucked the cloak behind a suit of armour and knocked on the door.

"Mister Potter," said Snape, sneering. "You're late, as per usual."

"Sorry, sir," replied Harry quietly. "Only, I was--"

"Off performing Gryffindor heroics, I am sure," snapped Snape. "Was it maidens from a tower tonight? Cats from a tree?"

"The squid, sir," said Harry. "It put a tentacle up after Ron. And they've got those sucker things on them. Pale and round. A lot like Malfoy's mouth, really, and--"

Snape made a funny, strangled noise.

"Are you all right, sir?" asked Harry. "Only, you look a bit flushed."

"Now that you mention it, Potter, I do feel a bit fevered," said Snape. He paused, pursing his lips. "Perhaps tomorrow would be better, unless you already have a detention in queue."

"No sir. Tomorrow is fine."


End file.
